The night was warm for mid-March. You left your jacket on the room as you walked downstairs to find David smoking on the hotel esplanade all by himself.
"Can I sit down?", you asked, pointing to the chair in front of him.
David nodded, watching you carefully as you sat right in front of his eyes. He had been watching you from the distance in the past weeks. You were a talented singer, one of the best he had heard in quite a while. There was something graceful about you that made David want to get to know you better.
"Cigarette?", he offered, showing you a pack of cigarettes almost empty.
"No, thanks.", you replied. "I don't smoke."
He saves his cigarettes on his pocket, letting the cigarette on his fingers touch his lips again.
"Cigarettes are a bad habit, I know.", he spoke again. "And we don't want you to get lung cancer or something like that."
Nicotine was a bad habit for anyone. David inclusive.
"You're a strange man, Bowie.", you stated, looking at him.
"I am?", he asked with a laugh. You couldn't tell if he was feeling nervous.
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"Being strange it's the only way to survive this insane world.", he added. "Don't you think, darling?"
He was indeed strange, but you couldn't help but feel curious about the mysterious man sitting right in front of you.
